


Shadows and Dust

by Avelera



Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/pseuds/Avelera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assembly of my various drabbles, prompt fics, imagineyourotp's, gift fics, and crazy crossovers for Babylon 5, all originally posted to Tumblr and gathered here for your reading pleasure. Expect to see a great deal of Londo/G'Kar. </p><p>The drabbles culminate in a crossover ficlet with "His Dark Materials" entitled "Shadows and Dust" clearly marked in the chapter titles if you wish to jump straight to it.</p><p>Warning: Expect spoilers for the entire series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visitations

**Author's Note:**

> ImagineYourOTP is a Tumblr blog dedicated to presenting story ideas that can be applied to any OTP ("One True Pairing"). It's clear that many of them are designed for young, attractive, mainstream OTPs which makes applying them to Londo & G'Kar all the more hilarious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Londo and G'Kar may be dead, but that certainly doesn't stop them from attempting to advise Emperor Cotto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ImagineYourOTP is a Tumblr blog dedicated to presenting story ideas that can be applied to any OTP ("One True Pairing"). It's clear that many of them are designed for young, attractive, mainstream OTPs which makes applying them to Londo & G'Kar all the more hilarious.
> 
> Prompt: Imagine your OTP as ghosts who are haunting the same place. They refused to pass on to the afterlife without each other—it’s been that way for the past century or two.

_‘No, Vir! What I said about the Gaim ambassador’s wife was a joke, a joke! Not a biographical footnote!_ ’ Londo stormed back and forth behind Vir’s desk, gesticulating wildly and shouting, as if his former-aide-turned-Emperor could hear him. It had been a century since Vir had assumed the throne, and now in the twilight of his years he was writing his memoir, including a lengthy section on his memories of Londo.

_‘Really Mollari, with your reputation you can hardly fault him for the assumption. You were never known for your taste._ ‘ G’Kar was sprawled out on the chaise-lounge at the edge of the Imperial office.

_‘Hmph, it would certainly ‘take one to know one’. Really, G’Kar, three of the…? No, Vir, you’re not supposed to put down in writing that we knew they were spying on us! That’s to be used for blackmail. How have you survived this long without listening to my advice?!_

_‘Perhaps because he can’t hear you?’_ said G’Kar.

_‘That is no excuse! If he could hear me…’_

_‘I can hear you.’_

_"Oh, don’t start that again…’_

_‘Why not? There’s precious little else to do. An afterlife stuck in the Centauri royal palace, the universe must indeed have a sense of humor.’_

_‘Nobody is keeping you here!’_ As the bickering continued, Vir shifted in his chair wiggled a finger in his ear. Either someone was having a very loud argument somewhere down the hallway, or his hearing was finally starting to go. He shrugged, and had a sudden burst of inspiration. Posterity really should know about his speculation regarding Londo, G’Kar, and the Minbari concept of “soul mates". He set to work, and somewhere down the hall he thought he could distantly hear a snarl of frustration and a second voice hooting with laughter.


	2. Movie Night part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the heating breaks in the ambassadorial wing, Londo and G'Kar share a blanket and have a movie night. They are very pointedly only doing this because of the broken heating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your OTP watching a movie together on a chilly night and sharing a blanket

"Stop hogging the blanket, Mollari."

"I’m not  _hogging_  it, merely covering my arm so it doesn’t  _snap off_  while I turn on this Earth mo-vee. Remind me that I need to have another long talk with Sheridan about the damned heating system in the ambassadorial wing."

"And they say Narns are cold blooded. Its even worse in my room, you Centauri really are soft if you can’t bear such a small change in temperature."

"Then please, feel free to leave, I wouldn’t want to keep you here against your will!"

"If I’m going to stay trapped anywhere it might as well be a Centauri room, at least there’s a certain familiarity about the imprisonment. Besides, its only practical to share body heat with biggest bag of hot air on the station. Now what was it you said was on that data crystal?"

"A classic Earth mo-vee from Garibaldi. He said it will help us better understand the Earther’s culture and those confound references he’s making all the time. It appears to be a historical documentary."

"Hmm, then perhaps it will be useful. What is it called?"

"Star Wars."


	3. Movie Night part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Londo and G'Kar react to the "documentary" they just watched, and confront Garibaldi in search of answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your OTP cuddling on a couch, watching a movie at night with popcorn and when the movie ends they start throwing popcorn at each other in a playful manner.

The credits rolled and for a long moment G’Kar and Londo stared at the screen in dumbstruck silence. The heat had mysteriously returned in the midst of the movie, but the two had been too riveted to the screen to notice. 

Finally, G’Kar tentatively broke the silence, "…And Mr. Garibaldi said this “Star Wars" was a documentary?" he said. 

Londo blinked. "…I think I need to contact my government. This is… distressing to say the least," he said weakly. 

"But what I don’t understand is how they’ve hidden this technology from us. Surely more than their firearms must have survived. One would think those light swords…"

"Lightsabers," Londo said absently, still staring at the blank screen.

"Hmmph, you know what I mean. How have they hidden their contact with all those other alien races? Or their vast interstellar Empire?"

"Perhaps it fell apart with the death of their Emperor? We Centauri have known such things to happen. The pain and humiliation of it…perhaps they have chosen never to speak of it."

"And the Force? Have they simply  _forgotten_  that?"

Londo frowned. “Yes, this is quite troubling. Perhaps we are missing something?"

"Agreed. Mr. Garibaldi owes us an explanation."

* * *

They were clearly on to something about the Human races campaign of obfuscation in regards to their past, for when they confronted Mr. Garibaldi about it he went bright red and started making small choking sounds. 

"Mr. Garibaldi, are you sure you’re all right?" Londo said testily as Mr. Garibaldi clapped a hand of his mouth, tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. 

"No," he squeaked. “I mean… _hrrm_ , yes. I just can’t believe Earth has kept this from you for so long, you guys have been such good allies to us after all."

"As I said!" Londo exclaimed. “There had better be a good explanation for this, or I will be forced to bring this matter up to the Centaurum."

"Oh I wouldn’t… ok, my bad. I didn’t realize you were so far behind on Earth history. There’s another documentary I should have introduced you to first. Believe me, it will make things a lot clearer. Oh, but you’ll have to watch all seven or it won’t make any sense."

"And will this second documentary explain this mysterious “Force" of yours?" said G’Kar.

Garibaldi straightened his expression and said in a slightly strained yet serious tone, “Oh yeah, absolutely, I’ll get the files to you right away. It’s called “Harry Potter"."


	4. Announcements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more shipper-y than the last few prompts. Londo and G'Kar come clean about their relationship to the assembled officers and officials of B5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your OTP announcing their relationship for the first time, casually holding hands when they walk into a room full of their friends and relations.

"Excuse me, may I have your attention?" A hush fell over the council chamber at the sound of G’Kar’s voice.

Londo stood by his side, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He cleared his throat, “You see, G’Kar and I…" Londo stopped, perhaps for the first time in his life at a loss for words as the command staff and ambassadors stared. He fidgeted, and then very deliberately threaded his fingers through G’Kar’s. 

G’Kar coughed, rallied himself and announced. “What Mollari means to say is, that he and I are together." He spoke as if casting a gauntlet, straightening his back and puffing out his chest, his mismatched eyes glaring out, daring anyone to laugh. “Officially."

Silence greeted there words as the various ambassadors exchanged looks. It was Garibaldi who spoke first.

"You called a council session for  _that?"_ he said incredulously. 

"Mr. Garibaldi, I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this issue," G’Kar said, bristling. 

Delenn interrupted, “What he means is… we’ve all known for quite some time."

"How is that possible? We only agreed upon it last night!" Londo exclaimed. 

"Oh," Garibaldi blinked. “Are you sure?"

Sheridan glanced between the lot of them, a combination of “really?" and “bitch, please" warring for dominance across his face. “Well, if there’s nothing  _new_  to report, then I say this council session is adjourned." The ambassadors nearly trampled each other in the rush towards the door, until only Londo and G’Kar remained in the room. 

"What in the Great Maker’s name just happened?" said Londo.

"I’m not sure," G’Kar said. “But I take comfort in the fact it’s probably your fault."


	5. Dream Within a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the concept of an un-produced episode of Babylon 5, Londo and G'Kar meet in a world where the racial makeup of the station is swapped. The ambassadors now make up the Human command staff, and the Humans have become their alien counterparts. The loss of the racial hatred and rivalry between Londo and G'Kar has long-reaching implications for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the Babylon 5 wikia on proposed by unproduced episodes of Babylon 5.  
> “Dream Within a Dream” J. Michael Straczynski (not produced)   
> “He is Captain Jack Carr of the Earth Alliance; his female Russian second in command is Commander Dylan (a human version of Delenn, played by Mira without makeup), and his security chief is Len (the human version of Londo, played by Peter without makeup). They don’t believe his story that this is a dream…neither do the various ambassadors, Minbari ambassador Sherdinn, Narn ambassador S’san, or Centauri ambassador Garabaldo…The only constant in the real world and the dream world is Kosh, who may hold the secret G’Kar needs to heal himself and break out of his dream existence.” 
> 
> Prompt from Ibenholt: Londo/G'Kar in the "Dream Within a Dream" universe. Takes place early season 2, after "Chrysalis" but before "Coming of Shadows".

G’Kar tore away from the C&C, his heart thundering in his chest as he rounded the corner and fell back against the wall, one (soft, pink,  _human_ ) hand covering his face. It had to be a dream. What had they called him? Captain Carr? Captain of Babylon 5 he had to assume, from the blue Earthforce uniform that closed around his wrists and throat like a flimsy, cotton-and-leather vice. Delenn had been similarly outfitted, her headbone missing and her accent off, far more like Commander Ivanova’s, lacking any traces of soft Minbari syllables. It was as if he had fallen into some parallel universe where his ambassadorial colleagues had taken charge of the ship. Which could mean that… he reeled at what might have happened if the swap was indeed both ways. 

“Ah, Jack! Here you are!” a raucous and strangely familiar voice called to him from the end of the hallway. G’Kar looked up, shuddering slightly as his hand brushed the dense, curly  _hair_  that now sprouted from the top of his skull. A man was walking towards him wearing the gray-green uniform of a security officer. G’Kar squinted, unable to tell what about him was so familiar. He was Human, wore glasses and had short brown hair beginning to gray at the temples, but none of these details triggered anything in G’Kar’s memory as the man drew next to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Dylan sent for me. She said you were having a panic attack of some sort, that you ran out of C&C, babbling more than usual.” The man’s accent was thicker than G’Kar had grown accustomed to from Earthforce officers aboard B5, Italian unless G’Kar missed his guess.

“Why did she send you?” G’Kar said blearily. The man’s eyebrows shot up as confusion turned to mock surprise, and he clutched his free hand to his chest.

“Jack, you wound me! Tell me this isn’t about the tab in the Dark Star, hmm? It was only a joke. Tonight, I promise, I will make it up to you—” He stopped and peered into G’Kar’s eyes. His were blue, G’Kar noted distantly, and something niggled at the back of his head as the face behind the glasses became clearer. “You don’t look so good, my dear. Perhaps we should we continue this conversation on the way to medlab?” 

Whether it was the tone of his voice, or the glimpse of a face un-obscured by glasses that did it, the pieces all slipped together in G’Kar’s mind like a jigsaw puzzle.

“You!” G’Kar shouted, wrenching himself free of Londo Mollari’s grasp and stumbling backward. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mollari, but if you have something to do with this I swear by G’Quan I will make you pay for it!” Mollari started and suddenly laughed.

“By G’Quan? One of the Narn prophets? Don’t tell me you’re planning to join another religion…” Mollari’s grin faded, and at the sight of G’Kar’s expression he pulled a step back, his hands up and open in front of him in Human manner of showing non-aggression that Garibaldi used when approaching a violent scenes.

G’Kar continued to glare at Mollari, and the grin vanished completely. “Ah, so this is serious, hmm? Fine, fine,” he gave a shrug and lowered his hands. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry, alright? Here, open my wrists.” He displayed his hands in front of him, palms up. His shoulders slumped further when G’Kar remained silent. “Come now, Jack, you’ve never hesitated to tell me, at great length and detail, exactly what I have done wrong. I refuse to play guessing games with you.”

“I’m not the one playing games, Mollari.” G’Kar snarled. “You think I don’t recognize this Centauri trap of yours for what it is? Where is your telepath hiding? This farce ends now!”

Mollari started, his eyebrows drawing together as if he was…hurt, or frightened? The look was quickly replaced by determination as he raised the back of his hand to his mouth and tapped the link stuck just above the wrist. “Carr, Leonardo, to medlab. I need a team here immediately; the captain is having an attack. Yes, it may be the stress, but send Vince to find Miss Toth as well; he is saying something about a telepath. Carr, out.” Mollari tapped the link again to end the connection and reached for G’Kar.

G’Kar bared his teeth and drew back another step. The strange bleariness in his head was giving way to a pounding headache, the kind he got whenever things around him didn’t make sense. But it was Mollari, he was sure of it! Different accent perhaps, and he had found some sort of disguise to make him look Human, but G’Kar would know him anywhere. “Mollari,” G’Kar hissed, “If this is some plot by your government to steal our secrets—” 

“Again with the Mollari!” Londo said in exasperation. He had edged a half step forward and was clearly trying to corner G’Kar while distracting him with his usual babble. “It has been ten years, I know, but I thought I might get some warning before you finally lost your mind.” He spoke as if referencing on an old joke, but there was honest confusion in the set of his no-longer-bushy eyebrows. “Mollar _o_ , Jack? You told me that Leonardo Mollaro was a mouthful, so wouldn’t it be better if we both switched to Carr?”

Londo took another step towards him, and G’Kar knew he should move back as well. It was a trap, it had to be, and once the medical team showed up he’d be unable to escape. Yet he found himself strangely hypnotized by Mollari’s pleading. Perhaps it was because he could not resist the sight of Londo distress, or perhaps it was because there was something wounded in Mollari’s eyes, something soul-deep, and it was directed at  _him_. “Good God, surely you haven’t forgotten?” 

“My memory is as good at it has ever been,” G’Kar said, though the dull beat of the headache stole some of the conviction from his words. “I remember what your people did to mine, what you would do again if you had even an ounce of strength left in you.”

“Your people?  _My_  people? Jack, what are you talking about?” Londo said.

“Don’t you dare play the fool with me!” G’Kar shot back. “I know what I know, and I know this cannot be real. Stay back!” he said as Londo took another step toward him. “I have no qualms in killing you, Mollari. Just give me a reason.” 

Londo paled as if he had already received a deathblow. He looked away, blinking furiously, and muttered under his breath, “Where is the damned team?” He cleared his throat and looked back at G’Kar, his blue eyes watery and red-rimmed behind the glasses. “Whoever did this to you—I will make them pay. If they have hurt you or…God,  _reprogrammed_  you— ” He swallowed. “If someone has taken you from me, I swear, I will make them pay.” 

“And why should you care if someone has hurt me?” G’Kar retorted. “We both know you would be first in line to spit on my grave.” He tried to keep his anger hot, but it was now fighting a war with his growing curiosity and losing badly.

Londo’s face twisted at his words. “Why should I—?” He sputtered. “Why should I  _care_? Because I’m your husband, you idiot, I would tear apart the galaxy with my bare hands if someone hurt you!”

G’Kar froze. Part of him wanted to laugh, the other could not find any humor in the statement at all. “Stop this.” 

“No,  _you_  stop and listen to  _me_!” Londo said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out two items, a badge and a photo. “There, you see?” He flipped open the badge and held it to G’Kar’s face. “My name, there, Leonardo Carr. The night you proposed you said that you’d rather die than be Jack Mollaro. I nearly strangled you on the spot, I thought you were leaving me, but you went down on one knee. You asked if I would be Leonardo Carr instead.” His voice cracked. “Carr instead of Mollaro! One of the oldest names in Europe, but I gave it up  _for you_  because I…” He stopped, lifted his glasses a hand over his face. “Ah, listen to me, we don’t even talk like this when you’re sane. Here, take it.” Londo shoved the second item, the photo, into G’Kar’s hand.

It was a photo of two men. One was Londo still in this Human guise, wearing one of those dull suits that passed as male formal wear for them. The other was G’Kar. Only, it wasn’t him. There was something around the nose and mouth that was familiar, but the dark curling hair, the olive skin, all of that was Human. He was wearing some sort of military dress uniform, and his arm was around Londo’s waist. They were smiling.

“There, you see?” Londo said, spreading his hands in surrender, one hand still gripping his badge. “Our wedding day. Not much to look at, but then neither of us has anything to brag about there.” 

G’Kar studied the photo, a strange emotion tightening around his heart. Disgust, perhaps, or anger? Something about the picture was choking the air out of him and he brought his other hand up, overwhelmed by the desire to tear it to shreds.

Mollari must have sensed it, because he snatched the photo from his hand and placed it with the badge back in his pocket. “That is who you are. If you don’t believe it there is not much I can do to change your mind except shoot you, and I’d rather not do that. Something I’m sure you never thought you’d hear me say.” Londo had recovered some of his composure and offered him a wry, if watery, smile. 

“For many reasons,” G’Kar agreed. Why he was playing along now he couldn’t imagine, but something shifted inside him at the sight of Mollari’s relief when he did so.

“See, your memories are still in there, somewhere. We just have to dig them out,” Mollari said. He reached out, perhaps without realizing it, placed a hand once again on G’Kar’s shoulder. This time he did not pull away. 

A dream, it had to be a dream, but for just a moment he couldn’t decide which one he wanted most to be true. 


	6. On my sleeve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sannel Mollari was a puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something I wrote for Ibenholt while we chatted, regarding her OC Sannel Mollari, who is Londo and G’Kar’s biological daughter in an AU where Londo does not become emperor and nothing bad ever happens. I rather liked it so I thought I’d share.  
> (Ficlet takes place when Sannel is about 30, after spending many years learning to deal with her dual heritage, and growing stronger for it. Not sure who the narrator is, but wherever she is now she’s happy there.)
> 
> Sannel Mollari was created by the lovely Ibenholt.

Sannel was a puzzle, and he had thought himself good at those.

The first day he saw her she wore Narn armor and he thought “Ah, it must be hard to live with Centauri disapproval. This is one who has given up on that arrogant race." And yet that evening he spied her at the bar and she wore a fine silk dress of light violet, open across the shoulders and he was not so sure. He thought perhaps she simply alternated, so as to not give offense. “It must be hard to live so on the edge, forced to cater to both sides." he thought.

But the next day it was Minbari robes, with a Narn belt, then a Centauri waistcoat, meant for men of all things, with leather leggings. Each day he found himself more confused as she paid little mind to which culture she seemed to ally herself with. He finally asked her, on the day her wardrobe cycled back to the Narn armor, thinking it was the most delicate time to ask why. Why do you give no allegiance to your heritage? Which do you favor?

She gave him a look that was gentle but also pitying ,"It must be hard to think that what other people wear defines them. The world is so much more rich and interesting than that. I simply do what makes me happy. Any allegiance is in my heart, not on my sleeve." And he realized that perhaps he was not as good at puzzles as he had thought.


	7. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Babylon 5 characters enact old rivalries and new schemes on the "Risk" board after a freak accident locks them in the council chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what my brain does while thinking over a potential B5/Game of Thrones crossover - It locks the main characters of B5 into a room and forces them to play Risk. I may have fudged the rules of the game for the sake of humor. This was written in about an hour in script form due to time constraints, and because I just couldn’t let the idea go.  
> I think my mind must be a strange place to live in…

**Scene: The Council Chamber**

_During a meeting of the larger council, consisting of Sheridan, Delenn, Lennier, Vir, G’Kar, and Londo, there is a power outage that locks the doors and takes out the comm system. Fortunately, they magically find a copy of an old Earth game called “Risk" in one of the storage cupboard. Sheridan suggests they start a game to pass the time, as it was one of his favorites growing up. He will of course help explain the rules to Delenn and the others. G’Kar, Londo, Delenn and Sheridan all take their positions, but there are not enough sets for Vir and Lennier to play separately so they are forced to play as a team._

**Vir** : It’s fine. We’ll play on the same team 

_Vir and Lennier exchange a significant look and while the rest of the commanders and ambassadors divide of the major continents, they place their first piece on some place named “Australia". No one notices. Londo goes for Asia, Sheridan for Europe, G’Kar for the Americas, and Delenn takes Africa._

**G’Kar** : Another land grab, Mollari? Typical.

**Londo** : Typical? What choice do I have, you’ve all joined forces against me!

**G’Kar** : To be fair, only one of us has been involved in the conquest of an actual planet.

**Londo** : You are not helping. (Londo says no more and does the “Yeah I kinda deserved that." face)

_Within an hour everyone has ganged up on Londo and he is out of the game. Vir and Lennier have not gotten involved in a single battle, but there is a forest of soldiers building up on Australia._

**Londo** : Come now, Vir, attack someone!

**G’Kar** : You’re out of the game, Mollari, stop telling your servant what to do. 

**Londo** : They’ll never win at this rate!

_Lennier smiles enigmatically. Vir looks like he is about to protest being called a “servant" but thinks better of it._

_Meanwhile…_

**Sheridan** : Wha- How- Delenn how have you managed to take _all_ of my forces?

**Delenn** : You still have a few…

_Delenn looks around the board. It takes longer than it should._

Here.

_Delenn points to two soldiers, not even artillery, on Great Britain._

**Sheridan** : I hope you realize this game bears no reflection on my abilities as a commander.

**Delenn** ( _smiling_ ): Even Minbari who are not dedicated to the Warrior Caste begin training in tactics at a young age, often using games similar to this one. There is no shame in losing to a superior player. Rather, the humility one learns can be an important lesson later in life. 

**Sheridan** : But what I don’t understand is  _how_. This is your  _first time_ , while I’ve been playing this game with my dad since I was a kid! 

**Delenn** : John-

**Sheridan** : What?

_John looks at the dice she has just rolled. Sure enough, his last two soldiers are sacrificed despite a valiant effort. John sighs._

**Delenn** : I love you too, dear.

_Another hour later - G’Kar and Delenn are squaring off. But now rather than ignoring the Vir-Lennier team they both eye it warily, as the two attaches no longer have room to place all of the soldiers and artillery they’ve built up onto the land of Australia and its spilling out into the ocean. G’Kar’s eye flickers nervously between his two opponents. Delenn’s forces massing in Asia, threatening his powerhouse in the Americas._

**G’Kar** : Remember Delenn, you can only use weapons within the game. None of those magic gravity rings!

**Delenn** ( _still smiling)_ : G’Kar, I do not need a child’s toy like that to crush you. 

**_Everyone_ ** _: (stares at Delenn in shock.)_

_G’Kar and Delenn stare each other down with vicious grins._

**Sheridan** : Perhaps we should find something else to do…

**Delenn** : Don’t be ridiculous John, it’s just a bit of…what do you always call it? Friendly competition. You should not take it so seriously. 

_Delenn counterpoints her words with a gentle smile to G’Kar as she flicks his last soldiers off of Canada. G’Kar glowers._

_Delenn makes short work of G’Kar after that and there is much snarling (and chuckling from Londo) as she cleans the Narn from the board._

_Now all that is left is Delenn against Vir and Lennier. Though she owns the vast majority of the map, the soldiers Vir and Lennier have built up over the course of the three-hour long game literally swarm across the bottom of the board. Lennier, Delenn, and Vir share a significant look._

**Delenn** : I concede the game.

**Londo**   **& G’Kar**  ( _in unison)_ : _What?!_

**Lennier** : It is clear from the available pieces on the board that any combat between us at this point must lead to a war of attrition. This would only cause bad feeling amongst the remaining players and boredom on the part of those no longer able to participate. This is not in keeping with the spirit of the game, and thus by rights it should draw to a close.

**Delenn** : And let us not forget the most important rule of warfare is to know when you are beaten.

_Lennier and Delenn fold hands and bow to one another across the board. Vir beams at Londo._  

**Londo** : This cannot count, you two won without fighting a single battle!

**Lennier** : There is nothing in the rules that says partaking in combat is necessary condition of victory.

**Londo** : Let me see those.

_Londo snatches the rules from the box. G’Kar looks surreptitiously over his shoulder._  

**Sheridan** ( _into his comm device_ ): Sheridan to Ivanova, please tell me that you’ve found a way to get the computers back on line and get us out of here.

_Ivanova appears on the screen._

**Ivanova** : Oh, we figured that out ages ago.

**Sheridan** : And you couldn’t have mentioned that  _before_  I lost us a second round of the Earth-Minbari War?

**Ivanova** ( _innocently)_ : Well you all looked like you were having so much fun, I couldn’t possibly interrupt. 

_The door opens and everyone stands in unison. Londo drops the rules sheet in his rush to get to the door and there is a brief struggle as he and G’Kar get stuck while attempting to flee in unison. Delenn graciously take John’s arms, nodding sympathetically as he mutters angrily to himself. Vir and Lennier are left alone in the room._

**Vir** ( _leaning in conspiratorially_ ): The other rule of warfare: always give your enemy reason to underestimate you.

_Lennier smiles in response and they both set about putting the game neatly back in the box._


	8. The Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Londo/G'Kar - coffee shop AU. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tribute to the fabulous Babylon 5 podcast "The Babble On Project".
> 
> Prompt from GloriaVictoria: Londo/G'kar, coffee shop AU

“Ah, G’Kar. I heard the Narn government is strapped for cash at times, but this? Working for an Earth…beverage stand of all things?” Londo plucked a blueberry muffin off the counter and began tossing it idly from hand to hand.

“I’m filling in for a friend, Mollari, not that you would understand such things,” G’Kar said airily. Unfortunately, there were no customers at the stand at 1100 hours, and so no convenient way to pretend Mollari didn’t exist. 

“Yes, yes, very admirable of you too. I would expect no less of my esteemed Narn colleague,” Londo said with a pointy grin. “And might I add you look particularly  _fetching_  in green?”

G’Kar glowered at him, making a pointed effort not to snatch the green visor off his head and tear it to shreds. G’Tak had made it clear on no uncertain terms that destruction of company property would be docked from his pay. It was only supposed to be for a few hours while G’Tak used G’Kar’s channel to call home world, and on such short notice it had seemed no great ordeal to keep a  _coffee_   _shop_  (he mentally sneered at Mollari’s ignorance of Earth vocabulary) running during off-peak hours. It was a grand example of the universe’s sense of humor that Mollari had managed to find him during that time.

“Is this, uh, is this a good time?” a squeaky voice said from somewhere behind Mollari’s crest. Both ambassadors (well, one ambassador and one ambassador/part-time barista) jumped, then jumped again at the sight of Ambassador Kosh. “Oh dear, this is awkward. Umm, one blueberry muffin, please, and put it on Ambassador Kosh’s tab, alright? Cheers!” A small, pink form that looked far more like a human hand than the infamous koshticle snatched a muffin from the counter and…scampered. There was no other word for it. Ambassador Kosh scampered away, panel still flashing with some sort of high-pitched panicked squeaking. 

Londo and G’Kar both shrugged without realizing the other mirrored their movement, and returned to arguing.


	9. While Rome Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aela Cantori, Imperial historian for the Centauri Republic, shares ja’la with Emperor Londo while discussing his Roman counterparts, and learns more than she had ever dared hope. Or fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet serves as a prequel of sorts to my long AU fic "The Road from Hell". This was Aela Cantori's first appearance in fiction. The timeline doesn't align with "The Road from Hell", but a scene of this sort did take place off-screen.
> 
> Some reference is made to the Centauri Trilogy of the B5 spin-off books. The only thing an unfamiliar reader would need to know is that Durla is Londo’s fascist Prime Minister, who carries out the Drakh orders without knowing who they are, thinking it is his own idea. Londo also goes along with the Drakh legislations, creating increasingly dictatorial laws, because he has no choice. The alternative is that fusion bombs planted across the surface of Centauri Prime will be set off, killing nearly everyone on the planet.

“Nero, is it?” Londo said with a dry chuckle. His voice carried the dry whisper of age, and those years had not been kind to him. Gone was any attempt at hiding the toll Londo’s reign had taken on him, there were no further attempts to dye his hair back to its original black, or conceal the furrows of age that dug deeper and deeper into his face. Age marks pocked the skin of his hands that caressed the glass of hot ja’la. It was one of the few times of late that Aela had seen him without a bottle of brivari near at hand, not to drink but merely hold close like a weapon to be snatched at a second’s notice. His hands shook, and the yellow of his eyes gave testament to the tides of alcohol that had washed in and out of his system. Londo had been a hard drinker all his life, and it showed.

And yet he had never drank heavily with Aela, or any other member of the court that she knew. And this was puzzling. The Emperor was sometimes spotted deep in his cups, shouting incoherently, raging like a wounded animal. None were allowed to be near him in that state, not that anyone would have wanted to. It had prompted rampant, disdainful court gossip. The Emperor was a joke, a stinking drunkard that put up with the Interstellar Alliance’s crippling reparations and did not raise a hand to protest. Only Durla, Durla their savior, took any steps to restore the glory of the Centauri Republic.

That man, Emperor Mollari II of the Centauri Republic, seemed very far away here in the archives where the dust of centuries gathered on ancient texts from the days before data crystals. It was here, in the back corner of the temperature-controlled manuscript room that they would occasionally meet, surrounded by the smell of books. The old Centauri across from her was withdrawn, a shadow in white that wandered through the stacks like a ghost. It had been over a decade since they struck up their first conversation while she researched her thesis for the university. Now she came here for her larger work, the great work, the lives of the Centauri emperors of the 23rd century, including the one that sat across from her. She was older now as well, well into her forties and still unmarried. A spinster, an embarrassment to her family when they bothered to remember her.

“I’m afraid so, Londo. For both the good reasons, and the bad,” she said gravely.

“And how is it, my dear, that you think history will remember me?” he said with a flash of fangs and the old, self-deprecating humor. “How will the scholars twist my life to suit their ends, hmm?”

Aela's gaze flicked down as she murmured, “It’s not over yet.”

“No, it is not, is it? Gods help me…” For a moment it was as if a window had opened in his eyes to a place of darkness and crushing weariness. Londo stared at the ja’la for a long silent moment. The he leaned back in his chair with a chuckle, the shadow of a bookshelf falling across his shoulder. “But we might already guess, eh? They will remember the war, the bombings, the end of our empire. They will remember the reparations we have been forced to pay. And Durla and Cartagia will become heroes of our brief golden age while I stand as the shadow behind them, the fool who halted our  _glorious_ expansion. Quite ironic.”

“But the Shadows, and the deals he made with their agent, Mr. Morden. Cartagia will be remembered for that too,” Aela said, leaning forward. Had he flinched at the name? But then, Londo like all the ministers of Cartagia’s reign had lived in a state of terror, never knowing when his capriciousness might be turned on them. Londo more than most had been exposed to the danger, courting the former Emperor’s will, entertaining him, directing his madness. It was one of the many contradictions she noted in her biography, that a man apparently so adept at handling the mad emperor would be the creator of so many mad legislations himself. The itch returned, the need to know what stood behind that flinch, what could possibly possess such a man to behave so differently in his personal and political life. And there wasn’t much time left. Age and something else, something heavier than time, weighed upon him, pulling his body apart and wearing away his vitality like water wearing away a stone.

“Perhaps, but not by the Centauri. They will remember that it was under his reign that we reached out to the stars and crushed our enemies before us,” he said, making a fist as if to crush that enemy’s heart in his hand. “What do they care of the executions? Why should they believe that he meant to make our world into his funeral pyre?” Londo grimaced , “After all, I did not believe it. At first.”

“The record can be set straight, Londo,” Aela said, searching his face. She reached out and clasped one age-spotted hand in hers. His skin was dry like paper and she wrapped her fingers through his, earning a faint smile, as if in remembrance of better times, “There are things the Centauri do not know about the end of the Shadow War, things we  _must_  know for the future, that don’t make sense now. Where did Morden come from? Why did the expansion begin  _before_  Cartagia’s reign if he was responsible for the Shadow’s involvement? Did Regent Virini really launch those attacks on the Alliance ships and why? Where were our defenses when the Alliance bombed Centauri Prime? You must know something of these questions!”

Londo ripped his hand out of hers, but before he did she felt the shock that raced through his body as if he had been electrocuted, saw him flinch away as if stabbed….not in the hand, but in the shoulder. His eyes went wide and for a moment she thought he might strike her, the instinct of an animal in pain lashing out at the nearest target. A shudder ran through him, a breath and he calmed, drawing himself up from the chair and into himself, “ _You forget your place_ ,” he said, his tone harsh and almost…alien in his throat.  Another shudder ran through and he closed his eyes and pushed a hand to his forehead as if pushing back a headache. His lips moved as he muttered to himself, but she could not make out the words. Then the creases eased in his forehead, now shiny with sweat, and after a few ragged breaths he sat.

Aela stared as he gathered himself, and when he spoke his voice was faintly hoarse, “I hear enough of the affairs of state in my day-to-day life, Lady Cantori. I would rather not hear about it here. If it is too difficult for you to stay away from this topic then we will have nothing more to discuss and I will have you dismissed from this post.” He fixed her with his gaze. “And dismissed with  _extreme prejudice_. Do I make myself clear?”

Aela gave a shaky nod and clasped her hands in front of her, staring down at them. Yet out of the corner of her eye she watched Londo’s hands shake, imperceptibly, then still as his posture became more relaxed, more familiar. But that edge remained in the stiffness of his spine as he reclined back in the chair, taking the now cold ja’la in hand and finishing the glass in a single gulp as if it were a shot of Earth whiskey.

“So, Nero is it?” said Londo, “I know the story well, Sheridan had a habit of comparing the councilors to him. What was the phrase? Dancing a “jig” while Rome burned?”

“Fiddling,” said Aela, “Or rather, playing an instrument known as a lyre, something like a harp. In his early reign his mother controlled his every move. Once he pulled free of her though…” His eyes flickered. It was barely perceptible, but he looked down, to the right and back. Aela kept her gaze fixed on her hands and saw a faint thread of tension ease from his body when he thought she had not noticed his lapse. A chill of horror ran through her so intensely it brought with it a wave of nausea.

 _Someone is threatening the Emperor_. Something so horrible he dare not speak its name, even to her. What conspiracy could possibly terrify one such as him to this extent? Every instinct in her body pushed her to jump up and race from the room but she kept still, reciting some vagaries of Suetonius and his take on the poet-emperor. Londo nodded in all the right parts, glancing up only briefly when a servant came to pour him fresh ja’la.

When they parted ways, he kissed her hand and promised expansively that they would meet again soon, once the damned affairs of state allowed. “And I won’t hear a word on them, hmm?” said Londo good naturedly, wagging a finger at her.

“Of course not, my friend,” said Aela, placing a light kiss on his cheek.  She watched as he strode down the hall and away, keeping her face carefully neutral as fear twisted in her belly like a snake. 


	10. Shadows and Dust prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a universe where all sentient beings are accompanied by a daemon, a visible fragment of their soul, which follows them in the form of the animal they most resemble, and with whom they talk and interact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of daemons is taken from Philip Pullman's series "His Dark Materials", best known for the book "The Golden Compass". For those who have not read His Dark Material, Daemons are usually members of the opposite sex, for example a Human woman would have a male daemon. To have a daemon of the same gender implies homosexuality in the HDM universe. It is considered extremely rude to the point of criminal to touch another person's daemon without permission.

The most unsettling thing about Kosh was that he had no daemon. When the Humans had finally reached the stars, they had found this one thing in common amongst all the sentient races of the universe. They all had daemons, although they took the form of the strange and bizarre creatures of their alien homeworlds.  _Leati_  padded alongside Centauri while  _temshwee_  and  _gokk_ clung close to their Minbari. 

But the Vorlons walked alone.


	11. Shadows and Dust part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It did not occur to Londo until his third meeting with Morden to wonder where the man’s daemon was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during episode 2.1 Points of Departure.
> 
> A full list (with pictures) of B5 character daemons can be found here: http://avelera.tumblr.com/post/18309110632/the-daemons-of-shadows-and-dust-wip

It did not occur to Londo until his third meeting with Morden to wonder where the man’s daemon was. He had simply assumed it was some loathsome, crawling creature like a spider, or a snake, tucked away in the pocket of one of his gunmetal-gray suits. Ottavia shuddered on his shoulder, her purple feathers ruffling in distress as the thought crossed his mind for the first time, _W_ _hat if he doesn’t have one?_

“Now now, my dear,” Londo crooned to his daemon, smoothing her iridescent plumage against the top of her head. She leaned against his hand, his shivers quieting. “The idea is ridiculous.”

“But something  _is_  wrong about him, Londo. I do not like him,” Ottavia murmured. “Liddy does not like him either,” she added, referring to Vir’s daemon.

“I know,” Londo said, his eyes trailing back to the entrance of the garden behind him, Morden’s words still ringing in his ears.  _One thing at a time, Ambassador_. “But we need him, for now.”

Ottavia made an unhappy chirruping sound and settled down again as the two rounded the corner and Londo blinked in surprise as G’Kar strode before him. His daemon, a sort of leopard-spotted lizard named Tarna, who was about the size of an Earth cat (or was it duck?) clinging to the collar of his leather armor. The two were clearly in deep conversation, which of course meant that Londo could not resist interrupting. “Aaah, Ambassador G’Kar, and Tarna too! Back from your little expedition, I see.”

 “Did you find anything interesting?” Ottavia said slyly to Tarna, fluffing herself up to appear larger.

“Yes,” Tarna said curtly, glancing up to G’Kar.

“We’re going to call a meeting of the council to discuss it,” said G’Kar, stopping mid-stride and turning to face Londo.

“Oh?” Londo managed while Ottavia fluttered on his shoulder, barely masking the distress that lanced through both her and Londo at once under the guise of adjusting her seat. But both G’Kar and Tarna appeared not to notice.

“Mollari, the grievances between are people will never be resolved except with Centauri blood.” Though G’Kar’s voice remained measured and unthreatening, Tarna’s gaze sharped as she regarded Ottavia, her tongue flicking out to taste the area and perhaps wondering what a Centauri  _monalla_ bird might taste like. “Accept that as a gift.”

“Well, it’s good to know we’re appreciated,” Londo leered but fell silent as G’Kar continued, outlining the threat of unknown parties that lurked on the rim of space, ending with a request for Londo’s help. He did not manage to shake the Narn ambassador until he sent G’Kar scurrying off to find more of what had happened to Delenn.

* * *

Londo immediately returned to his quarters, and caught sight of Vir hunched over a desk, Liddy nosing at the data pad he held in his hand.

“Aah, Vir!” Londo cried. Ottavia launched herself from his shoulder and began fluttering about Vir’s face until he jumped back, startled, and she was able to give Liddy her customary greeting, which mainly consisted of pecking at her head. The furry brown creature, which most closely resembled an Earth otter, gave a little shriek of surprise that was mirrored by Vir’s own jump of shock. Centauri  _lutra_ were playful, affectionate creatures, occasionally taken as pets amongst the more eccentric nobility. They were also highly intelligent and intensely loyal, leading Londo to wonder in his more charitable moments why Vir’s own family had not seen that as indication of his hidden worth, and in his less charitable moments thinking it was because for all their intelligence  _lutra_ were fittingly bumbling and ridiculous at times.

“Londo, I was just been sorting the mail you’ve received from home. Everyone wants to know what’s going on with that attack on the Narn colony, as if we would know!” Vir said with a little huff of frustration. “I was just writing to tell them we know as little as they do.”

Londo paused, the sense of disquiet that had begun with G’Kar raising its head still further. “Why don’t you wait a bit before sending that Vir, hmm? It’s never a good idea to reveal ignorance in politics. That is, unless you are hiding something you know.”

“But Londo, I’ve asked around the station and  _nobody_  knows! There might be a real threat out there, this doesn’t seem like the time to play games.”

“Just… leave the letter to me,” said Londo. He paused, his eyes drifting to where Ottavia was playfully mussing around with Liddy’s fur, while the  _lutra_ -daemon looked to Vir with a long-suffering expression in her liquid brown eyes.

“Why don’t you go make some arrangements for dinner for the both of us while I write them a response. I will dine in my quarters tonight,” said Londo. “We have a great deal of work to do.”


	12. Shadows and Dust part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vir and Londo have a discussion over drinks. It’s hard to hide the truth from others when daemons are present. It’s even harder to hide it from yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after episode 3.12 Sic Transit Vir.
> 
> As a recap, these are the daemons:
> 
> Londo Mollari’s daemon, Ottavia. She is a Centauri monalla bird, based on the Himalayan Monal. In purple, she is stunning, and in temperament she shares much more with Timov than Londo likes to admit.
> 
> Vir’s daemon, Liddy (short for Liddia). She is a Centauri lutra, which is obviously based on an Earth otter. 
> 
> Mentioned, but not appearing in this story is Lyndisty’s daemon, Perro. He is a motherf-ing wolverine, because they may look cute but they are actually psycho killing machines. Can’t you just imagine cute little Liddy curling up with one of those crazy bastards?
> 
> This chapter explores why exactly Londo has a bird daemon, as bird daemons are typical for telepaths. The possibility that Londo's visions are specific enough to qualify him as a low-level seer is a reference to a theory by Selena, who has written some truly awe-inspiring Londo-centric fics that you should check out.

After seeing Lyndisty and Perro to their ship, Vir did the only sensible thing he could think of, which was head straight to the bar for a night of (by Vir’s standards) heavy drinking. This mostly consisted of nursing a single Jovian Sunspot until a pleasant numbness settled on his brain and then, in a fit of daring, ordering a second.

Several hours later, the room was spinning, Liddy had flopped down in a puddle on the bar and hadn’t moved since the second drink, and Vir began to consider ordering a third when Londo appeared at his side. He set an uncharacteristically quiet Ottavia down on the back of the stool and held up a finger to the bartender, who nodded without a word and bustled to get him his usual.

Ottavia side-eyed the prone figure of Liddy but didn’t say a word, merely shared a weighted glance with Londo, and sidled over to the  _lutra_  daemon, nudging her with her beak before settling down to lap the spilled alcohol off the bar. There was dignity, and then there was booze, and one should never get in the way of the other.

“Vir…about your position on Minbar,” Londo began, “I am…I…” The bartender placed the glass in front of him and Londo took it, staring into the liquid as if he could find the word he could not say in its depths. “You must understand it is for the best.”

“I don’t want to talk about,” Vir muttered into his sleeve. Liddy roused herself just enough to swat ineffectively in Ottavia’s direction before settling back into her stupor.

“I see, well, good. There’s not much to tell anyway,” said Londo. The silence stretched, and silence was never something that Londo could bear to leave unscathed. “And as for your young lady, in time things will change and you will see…”

“I don’t want to talk about her either,” said Vir and held up a hand to the bartender for another round. Londo shook his head over Vir’s shoulder and tapped at his credit chip, mouthing the word  _water_.  They had a long night of drinking ahead, a marathon rather than a sprint, and they would need to pace themselves. He knew Vir he would be out by the next drink, and Londo hoped a  _proper_  hangover would help distract him from his other miseries.

“Well then, Vir, I confess I am at a loss. Is there something you would like to tell me?” said Londo. Vir received his water and tossed it back, clearly without tasting it, and signaled for another.

“I’m not sure we have anything to talk about right now, Londo,” said Vir. “Nothing you will listen to, anyway.”

“Ah,” said Londo, drumming his fingers against the back of his hand and glancing about the bar. There was a dreadful irony to this situation, which was that a part of him was selfishly happy to have a reason to recall Vir from Minbar, regardless of the cause. And perhaps, still deeper down, he was not so much outraged by Vir’s efforts to save the Narns as he was…but no, he could not think like that. Not now.

“You should take better care of Liddy,” Ottavia said crossly, glaring at Vir who blinked blearily at the colorful bird who was suddenly only an inch from his nose.

“Ottavia…” Londo began, feeling a faint flush of embarrassment work its way under his collar.

“I know, Londo, but I can’t very well talk to the girl right now, can I? Clean her up this instant, and stop slouching, Vir Cotto! Your behavior is disgraceful for a Centauri, shame on you!” Ottavia snapped.

“Yes, Ottavia, I’m sorry Ottavia!” Vir said, his hands working before his brain could catch up to scoop Liddy out of the puddle, wiping her clean with his sleeve when he could not find a napkin. Ottavia rolled her eyes at the display and waddled back to Londo, leaning in to speak with him while Vir fussed over his daemon.

“You’re rather exposing our hand there, my dear,” muttered Londo to the iridescent  _monallo_  bird.

“Oh, come off it, Londo. You may keep your face before the other courtiers, and well you should, but you cannot hide from me. He’s been through quite enough today, between his position and that mad fiancé of his.”

“She’s from a perfectly respectable family!”  Londo protested.

“And as crazed as a  _leati_ with a thorn in its bum. He’s well rid of her, but it still hurts, and he doesn’t need you making it worse. Now buy him another drink and make sure he gets some food in his stomach. I’ve never seen one who more desperately needs to become one with his inner self,” she said. “And while you’re at it, fetch me a saucer of  _brivari_  as well.”

“You,” Londo said, shaking a finger at her, “Are a very  _bossy_  little bird.”

“And your better half, as you would do well to remember,” said Ottavia primly. Londo snorted in amusement and ordered the drinks without further comment.

Meanwhile, Vir had finished wiping the last of the alcohol from Liddy’s fur, and the  _lutra_  blinked in confusion up at her Centauri, before throwing her head back and mewling, “Let me die!”

“Calm down, Liddia, it is not as bad as it seems,” said Londo to the  _lutra_ , as a little turnabout is always fair play, “You and Vir are going to become one with your inner selves, my treat. And tomorrow I will expect you both back on duty in my office, are we clear?”

“ _Murglegurgle_ …” Liddia managed before flopping down again in despair. Vir gently placed her on his shoulder and she slid into place around his neck like a wet rag, paws trailing down his shoulder.

And drink they did. A few hours later, even Londo had forgotten what it was that Vir had done to upset him, the Abrahamo Lincolni business pushed far to the back of his mind. Vir had rallied as well, giggling into his cups like a child as Londo regaled him stories from his time as Centauri liaison on Earth, long before the Earth-Minbari War.

Londo was quite comfortable in the knowledge that Vir would not remember most of this, and even if he could he would have a matriarch of a headache in the morning. One day, Londo would need to instruct the boy on how to properly drink, it was after all a prerequisite for the diplomatic field, but for now the fact that Vir was a lightweight served its purpose.

“And then the telepath said,  _“_ Interesting, but not anatomically possible, Mister Mollari,” and I said, ‘Clearly you have not seen a Centauri without his shirt!”” Londo said, and  both he and Vir howled with laughter.

“She must have been confused by Ottavia!” Vir cackled, “Thinking you were a telepath, Great Maker, as if you would make all these stupid mistakes if you could read minds!”

“Aha…ha?” Londo began, and paused, reviewing the sentence in his mind. Vir chortled to himself and finished the last of whatever pink concoction had been put in front of him while Liddy giggled helplessly and slid from Vir’s shoulder into his lap. “Perhaps you’ve had enough Vir…”

“I mean, anyone can see that Morden doesn’t care about any of this, he’s just waiting for something, probably planning on killing us all, and Refa is going to assassinate  _you_  and probably the emperor as soon as he can, and don’t even get me started on…”

“ _Vir_!” Londo’s voice cracked like a whip, somehow penetrating the fog of Vir’s inebriation. “Be quiet!”

“But how can you not  _know_ , Londo?” Vir pleaded, nonetheless lowering his voice. His eyes no longer swam but seemed to have focused earnestly. “Sometimes I wish you  _were_  a telepath, maybe then you would see where this all will end. Where it  _has_  to end!” Londo clapped a hand over Vir’s mouth and glanced around the room, but no one appeared to have heard them, and the bartender was at the far end talking to one of the regulars. Ottavia sat quietly on the back of his chair, saying nothing. He could feel her expectation at the back of his mind, and her wariness that mirrored his own.

Maybe it was the  _brivari_ , maybe it was the relief of having Vir back, or perhaps because he was sick to death of secrets. Not that it was much of one, he had after all told Sinclair of his death dream, but never Vir. At first had been an oversight, then protectiveness, and now shame. He had few illusions of the path that lead him to the throne room, and G’Kar’s hands around his throat, but he had known what Vir would say, and what he would say in response, and how he would not budge and one more grain of respect would leave Vir’s eyes. And who knew how long until the last one fell?

“I already know how it is going to end,” he said quietly, taking his hand from Vir’s mouth. “I have known for a very long time.”

Vir brow crinkled and he shook his head as if unable to process what he was hearing. “But how?”

Londo grimaced, “My dream… _that_  dream, came to me when I was a young man. In it I am old. It is…well now its only seventeen years away. I am Emperor. G’Kar is there and he and I are...” He made a grasping motion with his hand, unable to speak the words as he remembers the vision, feels the pressure at his throat, “We squeeze the life from each other, one last act of destruction at the end of it all. It cannot go any other way. I know, I have tried and I am, as ever, on track for my last appointment.”

“Londo that is  _impossible_ ,” said Vir flatly. “You can’t possibly know your death in that much detail, or the year it’s going to happen, nobody does!”

“Nonetheless, it is true,” said Londo feeling strangely affronted that the story had not made the impression he expected on Vir.

Vir sighed in frustration, “If every Centauri had a vision like that our society wouldn’t function! All the murders, the backstabbing in the court, none of it would happen because everyone would know whom not to trust. It’s…it’s a paradox.”

“He does have a point, Londo,” Ottavia murmured in his ear, but Londo waved her back, fixing Vir with a glare.

“I take it then that you have already had yours without telling me, if you are so  _knowledgeable_  on the subject,” snapped Londo.

“No, not yet,” said Vir, more steadily than he should have been able to with the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “But I know people who have, I know people who have already  _died_  who told me their dream. My cousin, Andro, he dreamed that he couldn’t breathe, that he suffocated to death. He was allergic to  _watsul_ -fruit, and his lungs would close up if he was exposed to too much of it.”

“Yes, yes, and he didn’t realize when he had consumed it,” said Londo dismissively.

“He  _drowned_ , Londo, in a boating accident! His whole life he avoided that stupid fruit because he thought he understood the death dream. It was less than five years after his Ascension, he was barely more than a child and he  _never saw it coming_! He thought he had years to live! Have you ever considered that the death dream could be a metaphor?”

“No, no it’s far too specific,” said Londo.

“But if it’s so certain than why don’t you at least  _try_  to avoid it? Call it off with Refa, put a stop to the Narn occupation! It doesn’t have to be this way, Londo, you’re not a seer!” At this Vir paused as if struck by his own words, “You’re not a seer, are you?”

“Of course not,” Londo said. Suddenly spending the evening with Vir in this way did not seem such a good idea. Ottavia’s feathers ruffled while Liddia peaked up at them from Vir’s lap, showing the effects of the alcohol far more than Vir. “Despite what Ottavia would have you think, I’m not a telepath _or_  a seer. You think I wouldn’t know? I was tested as a child, just like everyone.”

“But if you didn’t have your death dream until after your Ascension, then maybe you didn’t have the ability then? Have you ever seen anything else? Visions, signs from the futures?”

 _Shadow ships screaming through the skies of Centauri Prime as he shields his eyes against the sun, the diadem of royalty placed upon his forehead, a great hand reaching out across the galaxy, the sense that Sheridan was near as he and G’Kar strangled one another._ “Don’t be ridiculous, Vir. It is only the death dream. Yes it may have been more specific than others, but it hardly makes me the prophetess of  _Tuwain_ ,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“I’m just saying, if you’re not a seer or even if you somehow were, that doesn’t mean what you have seen can’t be avoided,” said Vir, raising his hands defensively and turned back to his drink, staring into the empty glass with visible disappointment. “Is something wrong with the station? Why is the room spinning?” he said, and pitched backwards off his chair, having finally blacked out.

“Great Maker, it's about time,” Londo muttered, with a sigh of relief. “Bill these to my account, dear lady, I will have to see about bringing my friend here to his quarters," Londo said to the bartender. “Come on, Vir, time to go,” he tugged on Vir’s arm but found himself unable to move his attaché, much less drag him down the hallways to his quarters. “On second thought, hire someone to bring him back,” he said to the bartender.

“Of course, Ambassador,” she said. Londo nodded and with that left the bar himself, a little proud at how little he weaved as he worked through the crowds back to his chamber. And if those who recognized him moved out of the way, fear in their eyes, well who was he to care.

Ottavia said nothing to him until they were back in his quarters, hopping down his arm and fluttering over to her stand. “Vir may be right, you know,” she said.

“Perhaps, much good it does me,” said Londo, tossing his jacket and waistcoat onto the divan.

“But if he is…” said Ottavia.

“Then nothing has changed,” said Londo sharply, and wondered if he should have one more glass of  _brivari_  before sleep. He suddenly envied Vir, it was taking more and more alcohol to bring him into communion with the gods, and he tried not to let his thoughts drift to what he would do if he lost even that refuge.

“Of course, my dear,” said Ottavia quietly. But the look they shared said it all. That he knew, and she knew, that they had nowhere to go but forward.


	13. Shadows and Dust part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Sheridan learns exactly what it means to serve the Shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The daemons seen or mentioned in this chapter are:
> 
> John Sheridan’s Picardy Spaniel, Grace.  
> Anna Sheridan’s squirrel monkey, Perdix.  
> Susan Ivanova’s hawk daemon, Anya. 
> 
> For those unfamiliar with the HDM universe: having ones demon cut away is scientifically possible but it is considered the most heinous crime in existence, a fate worse than death, as you essentially kill the person’s soul and mutilate them forever. It is possible to survive the death of one’s daemon, but it is unusual as most commit suicide.

Delenn fled the room, leaving John alone with Anna. She advanced on him as she spoke, her gait steady and her expression stiff as if she were only a wax figure modeled after his late wife. Or perhaps he was only thinking such things because he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe this was her. Every instinct told him something was wrong, and his entire body went cold when he realized what it was.

_Franklin had called them to a meeting once the telepaths had been examined and safely stored within the cryo chambers. Susan stood at Sheridan’s side, her hawk-daemon Anya perched on her shoulder. Grace, his spaniel-daemon, hugged close to his side and he unconsciously scratched at her ears as they listened to Franklin’s lengthy explanation of the challenges facing the telepaths currently locked in stasis._

_“So they might never recover?” John had asked._

_“It’s more than that,” said Franklin, his expression grave. “In order to solidify control over the Shadow ship they…they sever the daemon. The ship takes its place, allowing for full synchronization.” He paused and a chill swept through the room as the horror of his statement settled upon his listeners. “Even if we could restore their minds, I doubt any of them would survive.” John’s gaze drifted to the doors of the cryo chambers he closed his eyes as a wave of nausea overcame him._

“Anna…” Sheridan whispered, as horror dawned in his heart and the blood drained from his face. “Where is Perdix?” 

His wife’s daemon, a tawny squirrel monkey, was nowhere to be seen. At his side, Grace whimpered and pressed her head against his knee, sniffing the air as if she could somehow catch Perdix’s scent. 

For the first time, something seemed to flicker in the depths of Anna’s eyes, pain so deep it was like staring into an open wound. Yet no sooner had it appeared it was gone, and her lips quirked into the plastic smile of the lobotomized. “The Shadows have taught us many things, one of these is how to separate a great distance from our daemons. Perdix is on Z’ha’dum, waiting for us.” 

“Not even telepaths can go that far from their daemons,” John said, taking her hands in his and gazing in to her eyes, searching for wherever that flicker of pain had gone, as if he could follow it like a lifeline down to her soul. “And the Anna I knew would never leave him behind.”

“Oh John, don’t you see?” Anna said, “The Shadows can do so much more than any telepaths. With them I have seen things, learned things that you cannot imagine. Come with me, John, and they’ll show you too. They can  _free_ you, John,” she said, and this time there was no flicker in her eyes at the thought of her lost daemon.

John looked down to Grace. Her ears were lowered and her tail tucked between her legs as she gazed mournfully back at him, his thoughts mirrored in his eyes. They both remembered it; the bottomless pain from which they had both so recently emerged. The countless nights they had lain curled side by side in an empty bed. For the first six months after Anna had died, Grace had cried herself to sleep every night, wrapped in John’s arms as he smoothed her fur, clinging to her like a frightened child. Once, Perdix used to stroke to run her clever black fingers through Grace’s fur, tracing the contours of her muzzle and ears, just as Anna’s cool fingers traced down John’s back until they were both asleep.

They held each other’s gaze as the knowledge passed between them without words: this was not Anna, and Perdix was not waiting at Z’ha’dum.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed these, please feel free to visit me over on Tumblr, under the name Avelera. I will post new drabbles here as they arise.


End file.
